


surrender

by synaptic_static



Category: The Poppy War - R. F. Kuang
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, TDR spoilers (related to Chaghan's past), i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synaptic_static/pseuds/synaptic_static
Summary: Chaghan expected Altan to win the duel. He wasn’t ready for what came after.
Relationships: Chaghan Suren/Altan Trengsin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	surrender

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot that the three days in the valley had even happened until Rebecca’s TPW drunk recap on instagram
> 
> then I had a sudden compulsion to write, so here we are

It took an embarrassingly short time for Chaghan to yield. He collapsed onto the scorched dirt, panting, head throbbing, spots dancing in his vision. Then his view of the sky was interrupted by the face he least wanted to see right now. Altan regarded him with those smoldering red eyes, mouth set in an infuriatingly neutral line _._ The bastard wasn’t even sweating. 

Chaghan scowled and pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the outstretched hand in front of him. 

“Suit yourself.” Altan began walking away. 

Chaghan took a step, and the horizon tilted. He realized he was on the ground again. That is, until a pair of arms slid under his knees and back and lifted him into the air.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed. 

“Too late for that.” Altan kept walking. 

Chaghan let his head fall back. The view was beautiful: a serene mountainside dotted with bright green trees. He gave it his most withering glare.

\-----

Chaghan couldn’t take it any longer. “Why are we still here?” 

“Hm?” Altan looked up. He’d cleaned and bandaged Chaghan’s wounds (ignoring Chaghan’s protests of _I’m fine, they’re just scratches_ and _I can do it myself_ and _ow, you’re hurting me_ ) _,_ caught some fish, gathered firewood. Through it all, he’d barely said a word, and now they were sitting on the ground, doing nothing. 

“We could have gone back. You won; you’re stronger than me. I get it now.” 

Altan ripped a blade of grass out of the ground. He spent a few seconds twirling it between his fingers before incinerating it with a hiss and a flash of light. 

“Chaghan,” he said. “Do you really want to be commander?”

He’d wanted it when he and Qara had first arrived at the Night Castle, exhausted from the long journey. They’d taken a direct route at first, but the villagers chasing away the boy with the blank white eyes and the girl who seemed to communicate with the bird on her shoulder had taught them that it was better to stick to less-traveled paths. _They’ll be running from me someday_ , he’d promised himself, and that thought was what had kept him stumbling down the winding roads, squinting against the harsh sunlight and ignoring the gnawing pain in his stomach. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Chaghan said. “I’m a foreigner. The Empress would never allow it.” 

Altan contemplated this. “You must have another reason for hating me, then.” 

“Are you really not smart enough to figure it out?” Chaghan laughed. “I spent years proving myself to Tyr. Then you show up and it takes him a week to toss me aside.”

Tyr cared for him, as far as Chaghan could tell, but Chaghan’s hunger for power had always made him uneasy. Besides, even if Chaghan would never admit it, he knew Altan was the better lieutenant: his knowledge of strategy was superior, he was far more useful on the battlefield, and the Cike’s respect for him was stronger than whatever fear Chaghan could inspire. 

“I have no control over Tyr’s decisions,” said Altan. “But if it’s your old position you want, I’ll make you lieutenant when I take over.” 

Chaghan stared at him. “But I’m an asshole to you.” 

“You are,” he agreed. “But I need someone who will tell me the truth, regardless of whether I want to hear it. Are we in agreement?” He held out his hand. 

Chaghan wanted badly to say yes. It was tiring to constantly push away someone so captivating, who seemed to genuinely want to get along with him. But letting Altan in would mean letting out feelings he didn’t want to name. His mother had given into her emotions, allowing herself to sympathize with the Nikara, and it had ruined their clan. He wouldn’t make the same mistake. _Your duty is to observe the Cike,_ he reminded himself, as he did whenever he saw the other members together, eating or playing dice or arguing about what would happen if they tried all of Enki’s hallucinogens at once, and wondered what it would be like to join them. _You can’t be emotionally compromised_.

So he stood up and spat on the ground. “Fuck you. I don’t care how much they worshipped you at Sinegard; I’m not going to be your obedient little puppy.” 

Altan rose as well, and the fire surged until it was nearly as tall as him. There was an icy hostility in his eyes that hadn’t been there during the duel. “Very well. When I’m commander, you will no longer be welcome in the Cike.” 

A cold, nauseating fear flooded through him. “Wait- Altan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” 

Altan said nothing. 

He sank to his knees. “I’ll do whatever you say; you don’t have to make me lieutenant,” he said, letting his panic seep into his voice. “Just please let me stay. I have nowhere else to go.” 

Altan remained silent, but the flames seemed to grow a little smaller. He sat down and hugged his knees to his chest. “I hated Sinegard,” he said. 

“But everyone loved you there.”

“They loved what I could do. Doesn’t mean anyone gave a shit about me.” 

Chaghan had thought Altan’s allure came from his confidence, his golden-boy aura, the powerful yet effortless way he wielded his trident. But sitting there shrouded in shadows, looking pitifully lost, he was as beautiful as ever. 

Before he could stop himself, Chaghan let his hand rest on Altan’s. Altan kept staring into the fire, but his fingers snaked into the spaces between Chaghan’s and squeezed. 

“I never hated you,” said Chaghan, and hoped Altan knew what he meant. He was ready to say good night and avoid screwing things up more than he already had when Altan turned to face him and pressed their lips together. 

Altan didn’t kiss the way he fought. He was tentative, even a little clumsy. His hands rested hesitantly on Chaghan’s thighs, as if he didn’t know where else to put them. 

Chaghan pushed him onto his back, kneeling between Altan’s legs and slipping a hand up his shirt. The muscles of Altan’s abdomen relaxed as Chaghan deepened the kiss, then suddenly tensed as Altan rolled them over so that he was on top, straddling Chaghan’s hips. Tendrils of hair brushed Chaghan’s face. Altan bent his head and scraped his teeth along Chaghan’s collarbone, applying the perfect amount of pressure. He cursed and dug his nails into Altan’s back. 

As Altan’s tongue traced one of the scars on Chaghan’s neck, a crunching noise echoed through the forest. Altan bolted upright and lunged across the ground, grabbing his trident.

A squirrel scampered across the clearing. He laughed. Chaghan realized that if the time came, he would not be capable of culling Altan Trengsin. 

“There’s a twig in your hair,” he said.

“At least it’s not burned.” Altan smirked. 

Chaghan tried to punch him, but he dodged effortlessly. He settled for grabbing Altan’s collar and pulling him down into another kiss. 

\-----

“I don’t get it.” Suni frowned down at his plate.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t get, monkey man.” Baji flicked a piece of scallion at him. 

Suni ignored him. “Why were they gone for three days? Altan could have kicked his ass in ten minutes.” 

“Maybe there were multiple ass-kickings,” Aratsha offered. “To hammer home his superiority.” 

“I bet that wasn’t the only thing getting hammered,” Baji snickered. 

Unegen choked on a mouthful of _mantou_. 

“I’m serious.” Baji jabbed a finger at Chaghan, who seemed almost cheerful as he said something to Altan across the room. “That’s not how you behave toward a guy who beat you up. Our skinny Hinterlander friend got laid, I guarantee it.” 

Chaghan, who had apparently noticed the rest of the Cike looking at him, stalked over to them in his usual dramatic way. 

“Chaghan,” Baji said sweetly. 

“What.” 

“What’s that on your neck?” 

Chaghan’s pale cheeks flushed a delicate pink and he tugged at his collar, which was much too low to conceal the conspicuous mark on his skin. 

“If you value having your mental faculties intact,” he hissed, “choose your next words carefully.” 

Baji smiled. “Is it true that Altan’s-” 

“Baji.” Tyr appeared behind him. “You’re on cleanup duty.” 

“But it was my turn two days ago!” 

“Go take the next watch, then.” 

“Alright, alright.” He tipped his head back and poured the contents of his bowl into his mouth, chopsticks scraping against the bottom. 

“Oh, and Chaghan.” Tyr clapped him on the back, hard enough to make him stumble forward. “Congratulations. Maybe you won’t be so uptight anymore, yeah?” 

Chaghan collapsed onto the bench and put his head in his hands. “I hate all of you.” 

Baji’s cackling echoed throughout the room. 

**Author's Note:**

> any feedback is welcome! including criticism (preferably constructive)


End file.
